Here’s a great random shot of Alma Heflin we found in a 1940 copy of Click magazine. Heflin was a test pilot for the Piper Aircraft Corporation, and was one of the first women—if not the first—to make a living testing commercial craft. We assume she didn’t fly in pumps, so this is probably a staged publicity shot. Heflin got to be pretty famous, and even published a book in 1942 titled Adventure Was the Compass. We also found a reference to her in a book called History’s Best Test Pilots, so clearly she was tops in the field. But all of this is just background info. The reason we're sharing this photo is simply because it perfectly captures the romance of flight during the last century. If we run across any more images like these we’ll definitely post them. 

Above, a rare hardback dust jacket for Erle Stanley Gardner’s The Case of the Substitute Face, starring his fictional defense attorney Perry Mason, published in 1938. 

Above, a Midnight newspaper with an article on Aristotle Onassis and his wife of one year, former First Lady of the U.S. Jackie Kennedy, published today in 1969. Jackie O., as she was known, was a full time obsession for the American tabloid press, though she lived on Skorpios, a private Greek island that was inaccessible to just about anyone outside the Onassis inner circle. But Midnight made up all its stories anyway, so isolated isle or not, they claim here to have the inside scoop on her marriage. Interspersed among that and other celebrity content is a lot of gore—i.e., unflinching photos of people in varying stages of mutilation, dismemberment and decay. Most of the images come from police files, though some are Vietnam War shots. Either way, they’re not for the faint-hearted. We have several more Midnights we’ll show you the inside of soon, including the blood and guts. 

Summer is dwindling in the parts of the world that have actual seasons. As a reminder of everyone’s favorite time of year we’ve searched the internet and cobbled together a collection of thirty vintage images featuring some of yesteryear’s fittest femmes and hommes enjoying the sun, and sometimes each other. If you haven’t had a summertime moment like one of those below, there’s still time. Get to it. 

The 1949 film noir The Third Man is a best-case-scenario of what can happen when great talents collaborate. Carol Reed directs, Orson Welles, Alida Valli and Joseph Cotten act from a screenplay penned by master storyteller Graham Greene, and the cinematographer is Robert Krasker. Krasker won an Academy Award for his work here, and when you see the velvety blacks and knifing shadows of his nighttime set-ups, as well as the famed scenes shot in the cavernous Vienna sewers and bombed out quadrants of the city center, you’ll understand why. The story involves a pulp writer named Holly Martins who arrives in a partitioned post-war Vienna to only find that his friend Harry Lime is dead, run down by a truck. When Martins learns that the police are disinterested in the circumstances of Lime’s demise, he decides to do what one of his pulp characters would do—take matters into his own hands. But nothing adds up. He learns that Lime died instantly, or survived long enough to utter a few last words. He finds that Lime was a racketeer, or possibly not. And he discovers that two men were present when Lime died—or possibly three. That third man seems to be the key to the mystery, but he proves to be damnably elusive. We can’t recommend this film highly enough. Above you see a pair of rare Japanese posters from The Third Man’s premier in Tokyo today in 1952. 

The National Police Gazette hits all bases in this vibrant September 1959 issue, telling us about Billie Holiday’s heroin woes, Carmen Basilio’s feud with Sugar Ray Robinson, Mickey Mantle’s lack of respect from his employers, and Debbie Reynolds' divorce. But we’re focused on the John F. Kennedy article. Just fifty years ago Americans were suspicious enough of Catholics that Kennedy’s opponents were able to exploit his religion during his campaign for president. The far right Aryan Knights are quoted from a press release: The Romanist church organization insolently pretends to temporal authority over various governments and people of the world, including our own United States. The League goes on to claim that Rome wants Catholicism established as America’s state religion, and that those who refuse to conform will be prosecuted or destroyed. The leaders of a religion based across the sea want to take over America using the President as a Trojan Horse? Hmm. Why does that ring a bell? Merrill J. Fox, head of the Federal Party, said: “Kennedy is bound to carry his religion over into politics. He does it now, subconsciously. Kennedy wouldn’t be good for our country because he isn’t his own boss.” Interesting, no? These fearmongers are basically forgotten today, consigned to that copious dustbin of history which is home to some of the most odious loudmouths who ever emerged from the woodwork. But at the time these guys made a fine living. And when you revisit some of their laughable assertions, it becomes clear that green—not red, white and blue—was their focus. Put another way, you'll never go broke telling people what to be afraid of. With regard to our current era, there’s an old saying that applies: The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Below, assorted covers of the Montreal-based pulp mag True Crime Cases, circa 1948 to 1953.

Above is an August 1962 Master Detective with great cover art of a lady in red being taken into custody, and clearly this isn’t a Wall Street bank she works at, because at those taxpayers’ money is free for the taking. Since it’s getting toward the best part of baseball season over in the U.S., the blurb that intrigued us the most on this cover was the final one, telling us that Tito Francona—father of current Boston Red Sox manager Terry Francona—was somehow involved in solving a murder. We’re told that he “belted a homer that led Tucson police to a killer”, and we were expecting the story to be some kind of convoluted mystery. But no—the blurb is meant literally. Francona hit a home run during a Cleveland Indians spring training game in Tucson and the ball actually landed next to a body that was hidden in brush beyond the right field wall. The body belonged to a fugitive who was wanted for the murder of his unfaithful wife’s lover. He had chosen that unlikely spot to commit suicide by shooting himself. Case solved. So Francona didn’t exactly enter stage right and help unravel a Da Vinci Code style puzzle, but the story is still an interesting historical footnote. Baseball is the type of sport where players and fans tend to believe in curses, so maybe a purification ceremony where the body was found would help the Indians finally win a World Series. It’s been sixty-two years and counting. 

Above, a 1939 program for legendary Broadway showman Billy Rose’s extravaganza Aquacade, and four late-1930s programs from Casa Mañana. The Aquacade was a music, dance and swimming show that began in 1937 at the Great Lakes Exposition, later moved to New York City, and featured notables like Duke Ellington, Johnny Weissmuller and Esther Williams. Casa Mañana was a club Rose opened in Fort Worth, Texas in 1936. Built specifically to host his aquatic productions, the venue contained a revolving stage surrounded by a moat. So many landmark mid-century clubs have met the wrecking ball, but Casa Mañana still exists today, though the original stage is gone. 

German lawmakers are outraged this week after a Berlin-based restaurant called Flimé launched a website requesting donations of human body parts for their menu, which specializes in Wari cuisine. What is Wari? Presumably this refers to the Waricaca, a Brazilian rain forest tribe that once practiced spiritual cannibalism, i.e., the ritualistic eating of dead relatives’ body parts in order to consume their essence. German authorities are alarmed by the website, not least because it’s a reminder of the infamous case of Armin Meiwes, the cannibal who advertised for a victim willing to be eaten—and found a taker. German prosecutors were embarrassed to discover that, technically, Meiwes had committed no obvious crime—his victim had signed a release form giving consent and had been videotaped eating his own body parts. And surprisingly, there was no law on the books against cannibalism. But prosecutors contrived to throw Meiwes in prison anyway. Now lawmakers are faced with a similar situation—it isn’t against the law to donate one’s own body parts, and it still isn’t against the law to eat them. At the moment, they seem to be hoping the restaurant is engaged in the mother of all publicity stunts, but they can’t be sure—Flimé isn’t open just yet. Their website lists an address in Brazil, and says that a Berlin location is still being chosen. But luckily, you can still become dismembered, er, become a member. All you have to do is pass a medical check, then decide which body part you’d like to sacrifice. We suggest that anybody crazy enough sign up donate their brain.